


Zinnia

by allihearisradiogaga



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alien AU, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, M/M, oikawa is an alien, tbh this fic is just for The Aesthetic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9614684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allihearisradiogaga/pseuds/allihearisradiogaga
Summary: Iwaizumi lives a quiet life and would be happy to be left alone.  Oikawa is an alien, crash-landed in Iwaizumi's backyard.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been thinking about nothing but Oikawa, the ultimate starboi, for a while now as an alien, and I would be lying if I said this fic wasn't incredibly self-indulgent.

Iwaizumi was having A Day.  That was the only way he could really put it in his head, or at least he thought so.  It was almost Valentine’s Day, which meant that there were _way_ too many people at the flower shop for his liking, all scrambling to get the same red roses they had sold out of a few hours before.  They’d stayed open an extra half hour, and with all of the desperate last-minute orders and frantic lovers in their shop, he was exhausted by the end of the day, and just wanted to be _away_ from the crowds.

He had gotten home to find that he hadn’t had any food in his fridge, and even though it was his own fault for not going grocery shopping, it still frustrated him as he cooked rice with the last of the chicken and vegetables he’d found at the back of his fridge.

When he’d gone to take the garbage out, he’d found that raccoons had gotten into the trash, and spread it all over the ground in the small alley out back of his house.  He sighed, dropped his bag next to the mess, and returned a moment later with big yellow dishwashing gloves to start picking up the pieces of trash and collecting them back into the bins.  It took him much longer than he’d hoped it would, and he shivered in the slight chill of the evening.  He righted the bin and took a step back, looking upward as he did, to the clear sky above him.  He shivered again and began to turn back to go indoors when something caught his eye.  A glint of light, moving across the sky, above him.

He cocked his head slightly, following the light as it traced a faint arc, moving across the sky much faster than a satellite would be moving.  It could have been a plane, but it didn’t have the right shape… something about it was _off_.  He followed it with his eyes for a moment, and narrowed his eyes when he saw the thing change direction mid-fall.  He didn’t know much about flying transport of any kind, but there was no way that something would be able to pivot its trajectory like that.  It just didn’t make sense.

The wind rustled in the trees around him, and he wrapped his hands around his biceps, rubbing them up and down against the cold, wishing he had brought a jacket with him to this short trip out to the trash.  He looked back up at the speck as it moved back across the sky, and he thought it seemed just a bit bigger than it had been.  Bigger…

He widened and narrowed his eyes again, trying to get a better read on it.  It grew slightly larger, a speck growing into a spot into a circle and into something even more, and Iwaizumi realized that he was not just looking at something that was coming toward Earth; he was looking at something that was coming toward _him._

He turned from the thing—a meteorite, he figured, or something fallen from the sky otherwise—and dashed back into his house.  He registered the warmth of inside vaguely, his skin tingling with goosebumps, and he closed the door behind him, as if that was going to do something against the thing falling to the earth outside.  He moved swiftly toward the center of his small house, squatting down in a doorway, his hands covering his head.  That was the way he had been told to stay safe during an earthquake, and thought this was just about the opposite of that kind of disaster, he figured it couldn’t be that far off point to take this kind of precaution.

He closed his eyes and took a breath, and a thought came to the top of his mind: _This is a fitting end to this day_.  He opened his eyes at this, staring down between his knees to his shoes.  Fitting?  Maybe—one thing after the other, cumulating with the arrival of some sort of space debris that was coming down toward his house.  What if it hit his house?  What if it hit _him_?

He waited, and it took a moment.  He heard nothing except for the faint sounds of a wind outside.  There was a moment where he felt cold, even inside, and that chill paused the space around him, as if he was suspended in the absence of time.

Then, it hit.

The impact sent a tremor through the house—not a large one, but one that was definitely tangible.  Iwaizumi felt his muscles tense, and he gritted his teeth against it, but it was not as big as he thought it would be.  There were small _thunk_ s as bits of dirt and clumps of grass whacked against his back windows, and a brief light that died out from the impact.

Then, the whole world went still again.  The wind still whistled faintly outside, but Iwaizumi paid it no mind.  He still felt that strange chill, and he trembled, standing slowly—whether the tremble was from the cold or from the _thing_ that just crash-landed in his backyard, he wasn’t sure.  He wasn’t looking to delve much deeper into that, either, because he really only had one course of action, and it lay smoldering in a crater somewhere halfway through his small garden, judging by what little he could see through the now-dirty windows.

He moved slowly to the backdoor, carefully gripping the doorknob and opening it to the chill of the evening air.  He registered faintly that he should have gone back for a jacket or something, but he also registered that there was some sort of meteorite half-submerged halfway through the patch of frozen earth that, come springtime, would have some tomatoes and cabbages.  The edges of the space rock glowed a faint orange, but the center of it was a matte gray, in a smooth, roundish surface.  It was spattered with half-frozen dirt, as was most of the backyard at this point.  Iwaizumi absentmindedly shut the back door behind him and took a step toward the thing.  He could begin to feel the heat radiating outward from it on his bare arms, and shuffled forward a bit more.

Whatever this thing was, it didn’t seem to be an ordinary piece of rock.  There was, of course, the fact that it had just fallen from the sky, but also that it was too smooth and spherical to not be artificial in construction.  Could it have been a satellite, knocked off of its orbit?  Iwaizumi didn’t know about any spherical satellites, but he didn’t really know about _any_ satellites, so he wasn’t about to rule out the possibility.  He reached a hand out in front of him, as if to touch it, but then pulled it back.  He didn’t know anything about satellites, but he did know that if something was glowing red and had just fallen through the atmosphere, it was going to be _hot_.  He was midway through considering whether or not oven mitts would offer adequate protection from the metal when something on its surface _moved_.

He took a half-step backward, holding his hand up in defense.  The metal on the surface pushed upward in a three-foot-wide circle about a half an inch, and began to separate outward from the middle, sliding back against the hot metal surface beneath it.  Iwaizumi wanted to see what was inside of the hole, but he also had the good sense to realize that could possibly be a very terrible idea and kept his distance.

Nothing happened for a half a moment, a hissing as some trails of vapor trailed from the inside of the sphere.  It dissipated into the air, and Iwaizumi kept his eyes on the hole, barely noticing the chill as it encroached on the rapidly diminishing heat from the meteoroid-turned-satellite-turned-something else entirely.

For a moment, there was nothing.

Then, there was something—a faint movement of a pale bluish gray-inside of the hole, barely visible in the light coming from the stars and from the windows of Iwaizumi’s house.    Iwaizumi let himself blink, wondering if he had really seen anything at all, but then he caught the movement again.  The gray mass moved upward, and was soon joined by two wide, black masses.

Standing in front of him was something he’d seen on TV, books, and in emojis, but something he’d never expected to see in real life.  Standing in front of him was a gray alien, or at least it seemed to be.  A large, wide head that tapered to a narrow chin, with a skinny neck, long torso with matching long arms, which came to three-fingered hands.  Iwaizumi wanted to take a step back, to turn and run, to do _anything_ , but his body didn’t seem to want to comply.  He stood there, motionless, staring.

The alien cocked its head at a slight angle and its small mouth moved.  “ _Lì’upe_?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened, and out of sheer impulse rather than an actual move to make communication, he responded “What?”

“ _Tsalì’uri alu what, ral lu’upe_?”  The alien was moving without moving, its features changing as it spoke.“ _Tswa’fko, kewong_.”

The alien was growing taller, and its features were shifting—its eyes becoming smaller, its arms becoming shorter, its shoulders broadening and its proportions becoming more regular, more… human.

Iwaizumi honestly did not know what to do.  He stood rooted in his spot, his skin prickling as some wind ruffled his tee shirt from behind.  The alien was growing a mop of brown hair, and its skin was turning from that bluish gray to a more human skin tone.

“ _Peseng…_?”  The alien wiggled its mouth, and Iwaizumi could have been sure that it wiggled as if it had been liquid, rippling like a pond in which a pebble had been dropped.  “Oh, okay.  That’s—okay.  That is the language you speak.”

It was talking to _him_.  The alien was talking to him.  It had figured out how to speak in human language and looked like a human and was talking to him.  Iwaizumi stared at the form of a naked man in front of him and made eye contact for a half of a second before looking away to see the alien’s chest, which was bare.  This led to Iwaizumi to look lower, and then immediately re-avert his eyes to the alien’s face.

“Who are you?”  Iwaizumi was surprised to find the words in his own mouth, but he let them come out.  He watched as the alien put its hands on the outside of the spaceship, probing at the hot-but-cooling surface, and began to climb out, one human-shaped leg after the other.

“I am _Srer Syulang_.”  It moved forward, taking one step after another, and stopping a few feet away from Iwaizumi.  He rocked back on his heels, as if to take a step back, but hesitated.  The alien was looking all around him, not particularly paying attention to Iwaizumi at all, though he seemed to address him while they were speaking.  “What is your called?”

“What?” asked Iwaizumi.  The alien pulled its eyes up to Iwaizumi’s again, and its brown eyes, still so new from their formation from those black voids they were before, and narrowed its eyelids for a moment before opening them wider again.

“Excuse me—my body is still rearranging itself to fit the life of your planet.”  The alien paused, as if to let this reach Iwaizumi, and continued: “My name is Tooru Oikawa.  What is your name?”

Iwaizumi slightly raised one eyebrow and replied, “Hajime Iwaizumi.”  As he did, he crossed his arms, from the cold.  The alien—Oikawa—noted this and focused on his arms.

“Iwaizumi Hajime, you have strong forelimbs.  Proportionally,” said the alien, taking a step forward, “you have developed further than many others of your kind.”

“What?”

The alien moved another step closer, and Iwaizumi finally yielded a bit, taking a half step backward, away from the encroaching alien in the form of a naked man.

“And you seem to—yes, you have an internal body heat!”  Oikawa clapped its hands together in delight, the quickest movement it had made since emerging from the spacecraft.  It seemed to Iwaizumi that this shapeshifting alien was acting like an overexcited child.  “But your thermoregulation must be off-balance, due to the temperature!  Here, I will warm you!”

“What are you— _no_!”  Iwaizumi both took a step back and held his arms out to push the alien backward, but it was more quick and agile than its initial baby steps would have indicated, and its arms—stronger than they looked, considering that they were both sort of skinny and recently formed from gray alien through an oddly liquid transformation—were tight around his arms and chest.  He struggled against the embrace, but as the alien stayed latched on, he could feel his body warming.

That did not want him to have this _literal_ space alien latched onto him any longer, however, and Iwaizumi pushed Oikawa backward, prying his arms off of him.

“I can thermoregulate fine, thanks,” said Iwaizumi.  The alien’s lips stretched into a grin, and for a half a second Iwaizumi was stricken by how human it seemed.  Then, he remembered that it was nighttime in February, and Oikawa was standing in front of him, naked, recently fallen from the sky.  There was nothing remotely _human_ about it.

They stood there for another moment, sizing each other up.  Oikawa’s eyes, having apparently taken their fill of the rest of their surroundings, seemed to be focused only on Iwaizumi, which meant that Iwaizumi found himself inspecting just about anything _but_ the alien.  It was while he was carefully avoiding the alien’s gaze and staring directly at the now-empty crashed spacecraft that Iwaizumi realized just how warm Oikawa’s embrace had been, compared to the chilly air around him.  And the alien was completely naked.  He sighed, and began to regret his invitation before it even began to broach his lips.

“Tooru, I don’t know where you came from, but do you want to come inside?  It is cold outside.”

The alien’s eyes lit up, and its small grin grew about three times its size—much larger than Iwaizumi thought was possible on a human face, another reminder of his visitor’s otherworldliness—and nodded.  “Yes,” it said.

Iwaizumi didn’t move for another moment, but then turned and began to lead the way to the dirty back of his house, which was splattered with half-frozen clumps of dirt from the impact of Oikawa’s crash landing.  He wasn’t sure how this had all happened, but he had a feeling that this was going to be A Night.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi somehow adopted an alien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! I just graduated college, so I'm going to use that whole thing as my excuse for now. Sorry!
> 
> But, I'm back, and I have so much more of these dorks to share with you!
> 
> Ty @hobbit_hedgehog for the beta and for nagging me to write more of this!!!

Stressed wasn’t the right word to describe the emotion Iwaizumi felt.  It was more like an overwhelming question of “why me?” throughout his entire body.  It wasn’t something he thought or said, it was something he _felt_.

This is what he was thinking about, at least, as he was pouring a glass of milk for the alien sitting at his kitchen table.  He brought the jug of milk back to the fridge and when he turned back to the milk, he began to stir in some chocolate syrup.  There seemed to be the beginning thrums of a headache in the front of his head.  Just another thing to add on to this night.

He dropped the spoon he was using to stir into the sink and picked up the glass, placing the syrup back in the refrigerator on his way toward the table.  The alien was swinging his legs back and forth, thankfully now covered by some of Iwaizumi’s sweatpants.  The alien looked to him and smiled.

“Thank you!” he said, taking the glass from him and bringing it to its face.  Once he had done that, he took a deep sniff of the drink, sending ripples through the surface of it.  “It tastes very good!”

“You…” started Iwaizumi, not sure how to explain.  He pulled out the chair opposite Oikawa and sat in it.  “You drink it.”

Oikawa’s eyebrow popped up in a strangely cartoonish, yet humanlike way, and lifted the glass in front of his face, his eyes made outlandishly large for just a moment in the convex glass before being obscured by the milk completely.  Iwaizumi watched as Oikawa held it over his mouth—about a foot above—and poured the chocolate milk carefully in.  He drank about half of it in this manner before returning the glass to the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  “Human consumption habits are very interesting.”

Iwaizumi just stared at him for a moment before he realized Oikawa was expecting some sort of a response.  “You… you were the one who asked for chocolate milk.”

Oikawa’s eyebrows narrowed.  “That _is_ true.”

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes at the alien as he guzzled the chocolate milk.  They sat there silently looking at each other for a moment.

“So…” said Iwaizumi, glancing down at his hands before looking back at Oikawa.  He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, really, so they lay one on the table, one in his lap, and he was hyper-conscious of them.  “How do you know what milk is?”

"Cows," said Oikawa.  "We like to look at cows."

"Cows?"

"We leave little notes, letting you know that we've taken them."  His face was genuine.

Iwaizumi thought for a moment before the thought came to him.  "Crop circles?"

"That's it!"  Oikawa's face lit up.  "The crop circles--though they're not usually just circles, they're more than just that...  Usually we leave pretty long messages."  He cocked his head to the side slightly.  "Are circles all you humans see?"

"No, I mean..."  Iwaizumi trailed off.  He had honestly not really thought about it in any real capacity before.  He wasn't really concerned with the crop circle phenomena or any of that conspiracy theory stuff.

“Well, in any case,” said Oikawa, finishing off what was left of his chocolate milk before placing the glass back down on the table in front of him, “we let you know we took them.  It’s not our fault if you can’t read simple…”  The next word he said wasn’t really a word at all, but a complex sound that was half grating metal and half dolphin squeaks.  “But we do understand the usefulness of the milk that comes from the mammary glands of the cows.  That’s why humans cultivate them, yes?”

“That, and their meat,” said Iwaizumi.  He wasn’t sure he liked the tone the alien took when he said he wasn’t even able to read simple—well, _whatever_ that word was—in the crop circles.

“Do they taste good?” asked Oikawa, looking at the small pool of chocolate syrup residue in his glass.

“Huh?” asked Iwaizumi.  He shifted forward in his chair.  “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I look forward to consuming a cow.”

“…”

Oikawa’s tongue flicked out of his mouth and lapped at the bottom of the glass for a moment, getting the last dredges of the syrup, and it took Iwaizumi a half of a second before he realized why he didn’t like what he was seeing.

“Um, if you’re looking to pretend to be a human, or disguise, or whatever…”  He watched as Oikawa’s long tongue hung out of his mouth, past the bottom of his chin, as he listened to him.  “…you’re going to need to know that humans can’t stretch their tongues that far.”

“Oh.”  He placed the glass gently down on the table in front of him, his tongue receding into his mouth.  “Fine.”

“Are you… pouting?”

“No.”

His terse tone said otherwise.  Iwaizumi didn’t know that aliens _could_ pout.  He was tired.

“Look, I don’t know, it’s your tongue, do what you want with it.”  A somewhat smug grin came to the alien’s face, and Iwaizumi immediately regretted giving him even that little bit of a concession.  “But if anyone sees that, they’ll know…”  He wasn’t sure what they’d know.  “They’d know you’re not normal.”

Oikawa grinned, but his tongue stayed in his mouth.  Iwaizumi stood and took the glass from the counter in front of him and brought it to the sink, rinsing it and dropping it in the drying rack before turning back to Oikawa.  “I…”  He dropped off, and started again.  “I’m tired, I’m sorry, but it’s been a _long_ day.  You can sleep on the couch if you’d like.”

“That would be nice,” said Oikawa, standing and following Iwaizumi into the living room.  He seemed amicable enough, but Iwaizumi was pretty sure that he didn’t know what a couch was.

* * *

 

Iwaizumi closed the door and felt around on the wall for a moment before finding the light switch. The small lamp on his bedside table flicked on, and he dropped his pants, tossing them to the hamper in the open closet, before dropping down onto the bed, back-first.  He lay there for a moment, staring at the smooth white ceiling, as if there were going to be some sort of change to it at any moment.  Based on the way his night was going already, he wouldn’t be all that surprised.

He rolled over and stood just enough to get to the head of the bed, where he peeled back the covers and slid inside.  He hesitated before reaching over and fingering the turnkey to switch the light off.  He sighed and settled back into his bed.  The alien was out on the couch, hopefully sleeping peacefully.  If aliens slept at all.  There was nothing else he was going to be able to do about that.  With any luck, he would wake up tomorrow and there would be no alien at all.  He would have just had a weird dream.

He had work tomorrow.  After his morning run, he would go in, make some arrangements for the upcoming Valentine’s Day rush, make some sales, move things around, and when he was done, he would come home to an empty house, just like he always did.  He would have the dull ache of standing all day in the back of his legs and after a small dinner, he would fall asleep before ten o’clock.  It wasn’t an exciting day, but that was okay.  It would be a _normal_ day, a part of his regular routine, minus any extraterrestrials.

As aliens went, Oikawa wasn’t as bad as he could’ve been, Iwaizumi reasoned.  He shook his head, blinking his eyes a few times before opening them again to stare at the ceiling some more.  What was he thinking?  There was an alien.  A _literal alien_.  There was an alien in his house.  He was going to sleep as if nothing was happening at all.

At that moment, he almost stood up, almost got out of bed to go and check again to see if Oikawa was actually there, if he was still on the couch where he left him.  He didn’t actually get up, but only because he reasoned with himself that in either case, it was something he would deal with in the morning.  Right now, he might be out there, but he could just have plausibly not existed, just something he imagined, as long as he didn’t check.  Plus, he’d had a long day.

He drifted off to sleep listening to the sound of what might have been his own breathing, mingled with the faint breath of winter wind around the outer walls of his house.

* * *

Hanamaki raised an eyebrow.  Iwaizumi let out a sigh of frustration, almost crushing the bunch of carnations he held in his hand as he did.  “Look, man, I’m telling you—”  He searched around him for a moment before finding a vase he had filled with water just moments before.  “—I _wish_ I was joking.”

Hanamaki didn’t say anything, just snatching the pitifully put together arrangement from Iwaizumi before he ruined it any more and began to pick at it on the other end of the counter, dropping in some baby’s breath as an embellishment.

“It sounds crazy, but…”

“You have an alien.  In your house.”  He put the flowers, now nicely set up in the vase, back into the cooler and turned to Iwaizumi.  Iwaizumi thought that _he_ was stoic, but he had nothing on Hanamaki, whose face remained almost completely stolid at all times.

Iwaizumi turned away from Hanamaki, blushing despite himself.  He nodded, then said, “yeah.”

“Hm,” said Hanamaki, and Iwaizumi turned back to him.  He was brushing up the sides of the arrangement with his hands, plumping it out into a magnificent array.  “There,” he said, “way better than what you had.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Iwaizumi, taking the arrangement from his coworker and stabbing the greeting card that went with it into the dirt and walking it back to the fridge.  “I guess I was just a little preoccupied.”

“With your alien.”

“With my alien.”  Iwaizumi paused a moment before turning back around to the counter.  “Wait—no, he’s not _my_ alien, he just is in my house, and…”

“It’s your alien.”

“Dammit,” said Iwaizumi.  “He’s my alien.”

Someone came into the shop then, the three jingle bells hanging from a leather strap on the inside door handle tinkling as the door shut behind them.  Iwaizumi looked up and greeted the younger, timid-looking man.  “Just let me know what you’re looking for, and I can get you what you need,” said Iwaizumi, as the man nodded and glanced around the shop, his eyes wide and searching.

“I’m just saying,” said Hanamaki, “if you’ve got an alien in your house and _aren’t_ just on drugs or something—and that’s a big _if_ —then you’ve got to be worried about leaving him at home alone all day.”

Iwaizumi nodded.  He was, actually, very worried about leaving Oikawa alone in his house all day.  It did not bode well, the way the alien was playfully curious and still obstinate about the answers he got.  It was strange because whatever kind of alien Oikawa was—and he had tried to tell Iwaizumi, but the sound he had made when pronouncing the species name was more of a low thrumming deep inside of Iwaizumi’s brain than an actual _word_ , so he didn’t think there was an easy translation—seemed to have a good deal of information about Earth _in general_ , but very little context for anything.

“Um, yes…” said the timid man, approaching the counter again.  Iwaizumi turned toward him.  “Could I just…”  He dropped off for a moment before pointing at the flowers he wanted in the case behind him.  “Could I get a bouquet of carnations?  A mix of colors, please?”

“Sure,” said Iwaizumi, relieved to be leaving the counter and Hanamaki’s jibes about his alien and how he was taking care of it.  He walked with the man over to the case.  “Does a dozen sound good?”

“Y-yes!” said the man, his hands fidgeting with each other in front of him as Iwaizumi retrieved the flowers.  Iwaizumi led him back to the counter, where Hanamaki had turned to get out of the way.  Iwaizumi wrapped up the carnations with some baby’s breath and ferns to fill out the bouquet fully before wrapping it up, a packet of flower food tied in with the rubber band at the base.

“How’s that?” he asked, presenting them to the nervous man.

“That’s great!” he said.  “It’s exactly what—what I’m looking for.”  He grinned earnestly, and Iwaizumi couldn’t help but smile back.  The freckled man paid for his flowers and was about to leave the store before he hesitated and turned back to Iwaizumi.

“I’m sorry if I’m intruding,” he said, “but I couldn’t help but notice that you were talking about having a… new dog, I think?”  He grinned and looked down.  “Just from my experience, when you’ve got a new puppy, at least, be careful about what they can get into.”  He chuckled a nervous laugh.  “My last dog wouldn’t stop getting into the trash! It took us a while to wean him on to _actual_ food…”  He trailed off and gave them a quick wave.  “Anyway, sorry if I was intruding, but good luck!”

“Thanks,” said Iwaizumi, giving him a slight wave back.

Hanamaki was able to hold his laugh in just until after the man had left the shop, and then he _cackled_ , holding his stomach as he chortled.  Iwaizumi took the towel from his apron pocket and flung it at him, but Hanamaki was able to easily able to catch it on its approach.  Iwaizumi reluctantly cracked a smile.

“So he thought Oikawa was a dog.”

This sent Hanamaki into an even deeper laugh, clutching at his stomach.  “That is not a name for a dog…”  Iwaizumi rolled his eyes as Hanamaki continued to laugh, and he stepped forward to snatch his towel back.  He was tucking it back to hang out of the pocket of his apron as Hanamaki pulled himself together enough to put together another sentence.  “You named it ‘Oikawa’?”

“He named himself,” said Iwaizumi.  He fiddled with the tie in the front of his apron.  “Or, at least, he said that was a rough translation of his name.”

“Hm,” said Hanamaki.  He giggled again, and then was able to right himself.  “You’re going to have to let me meet him.”

“My alien.”

“Yes, your alien.”

“Maybe… maybe another time.”  Iwaizumi glanced away, down toward the counter, where years to cutting and writing and arranging had left various gouges and scars, covered by a small plastic card where people could sign credit card receipts.  “I want to make sure that he’s safe.”

“Alright, well, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.  He’d seen Oikawa, and he didn’t believe it.  It might be nice to have another person to testify that he wasn’t just having a strange delusion or hallucination, but for now, he was mostly looking to figure out where he was at with processing all of this before be brought another person in to it all.

Another couple of customers came in not long after, and their attentions were split between them and the occasional ringing of the phone.  Iwaizumi spent the rest of the day mostly just hoping that Hanamaki wouldn’t press the subject further, which he didn’t, and rushed out the door as soon as five o’clock rolled around, pedaling his bike as hard as he could through the chilly February air to get home.

* * *

 

The freckled kid had been right, and Iwaizumi was less surprised than he thought he would have been to see the alien sitting in the middle of his kitchen floor, trash knocked over and spread all around him, bits of garbage strewn across the linoleum.  Iwaizumi stepped inside the doorway, glanced down at the mess, and closed the door behind him without a word, stepping over the pile to get into the living room, where he deposited his bike helmet and jacket before returning to the kitchen.

“Welcome back, Iwa-chan!” said Oikawa from the floor, where he seemed to be sorting some old chicken bones and stacking them in a parallel order.

“Um…” said Iwaizumi, scratching the back of his head.  His voice remained fairly flat.  “Hi.”

“I was investigating your waste, and it is _fascinating_!”

“I…”  He sighed.  “I see that.”

“There are so many things that are refuse—as evidenced by their crumpled and used-up states—but their raw molecular qualities are still useful for consumption and energy recycling!”  He held up the chicken bone in his hand.  “This could be well-used in an energy converter for any number of uses!”  He placed it down next to the others and looked up to Iwaizumi.  “Of course, I realize your planet is primitive enough not to have developed those sort of technologies yet.  That is my mistake.”  He stood up and dusted his sweatpants off.

“I’m sorry we don’t turn trash into batteries,” said Iwaizumi.  He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to the door.  “We do have recycling.”

“Of _what_?” said Oikawa.  “And how?  All of this refuse is totally reusable.”

Iwaizumi grumbled something about plastic and moved to the trash can, righting it before turning back to Oikawa.

“I am going to learn more about your world tomorrow,” said Oikawa.  “I understand that the rotation of this planet dictates when you humans operate, so I will wait until then, but you will show me more tomorrow.”

“I’m working tomorrow,” said Iwaizumi.  “I can’t show you around.”

“Oh,” said Oikawa, his brow furrowing.  “I will learn on my own, then.”

“How will you—never mind, I don’t care.”  Iwaizumi shook his head, and Oikawa turned on his heel, walking out of the room into the living room.  “Wait,” said Iwaizumi, “aren’t you going to pick this up?”

“No,” said Oikawa, not turning back.  “It isn’t trash to me.  I see no problem with where it is.”  Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes as the alien continued to walk away, finding his way to the couch, and he slowly lowered himself to the floor to begin to pick up the immaculately sorted trash.  His alien had gotten into the trash.  He sighed.  This was _why_ he didn’t have any pets.  He heard a strange, discordant humming from the other room.  He supposed he had one now, whether he liked it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be forever vexed that AO3 doesn't support emojis, because I want to use so many alien emojis in this fic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi leaves Oikawa at home for the day to watch Animal Planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is cute and fun and I love these two so much. I hope you enjoy this chapter; it was fun to write!
> 
> ALSO: it's Oikawa's birthday. Happy birthday, boi, you're amazing. Keep doing what you're doing. You should have won in season 2.
> 
> ty @hobbit_hedgehog for the beta

Iwaizumi left the TV on for Oikawa while he left for the day.  He figured it would be good for him, teach him a bit about the world he was on.  He knew that it wasn’t the right way to raise a child, but he figured Oikawa only _acted_ like a child—there was no telling how old he actually was.  He would have to remember to ask at some point.  He had to keep Oikawa entertained _somehow_ , so he wouldn’t inadvertently destroy the place.

When he got back from work nine hours later, Iwaizumi parked his bike on the back porch, locking it as he always did, under the eaves so that it wouldn't get snowed or rained on in the late February weather that sometimes picked up overnight, or get frozen over in a thawed night's dew.  He then stood in front of the door for a moment before entering, making sure that he was ready before he faced his alien again.

It was still weird to think of it that way, really.

He opened the door, expecting a mess like he'd found the last time.  Maybe this time instead of trash, Oikawa would thing there could be something interesting in the couch cushions, tearing through them to see what sort of stuff their insides were made of.  Maybe he'd start licking the paint on the walls.

For a moment, Iwaizumi was worried that the paint might be bad for him.  He thought that it wasn't lead paint, but he wasn't exactly sure—he wasn't the last person to paint the walls, and in any case he wasn't sure whether or not Oikawa would react negatively to lead, anyway.  That might have been an earth creature-only reaction to that particular metal.

Then, he realized that he was getting cold standing outside of his house, and opened the door.

There was no mess waiting for him.  The trash was where he had left it—though the stern talking to and explicit directions to keep it where it was probably kept Oikawa out of that for the day, at least to start—and there wasn't any evidence of anything getting torn up and explored, couch cushions or otherwise.  He breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him and toed off his shoes, shrugging off his jacket as he did.  "Oikawa?" he called, padding into the kitchen.

"I'm in here, Iwa-chan!" came a voice from the next room.  Iwaizumi wasn't sure what that little lilt in the alien's voice was, and he wasn't sure how much he liked it.  It was incredibly familiar for someone who he'd known for only a few days, for someone who was literally alien to him.

Regardless, he followed the voice to its source and found Oikawa basically where he had left him, sitting on the couch in front of the TV, lounging in Iwaizumi's sweatpants and a tee shirt from his high school's athletic department.

"How was your day?" asked Iwaizumi, glancing from Oikawa to the TV and back again.  He settled down into the overstuffed chair next to the couch, arranged for any guests, were there to be any guests to visit him.  The only recent guest he'd really had was Oikawa, who was making himself comfortable on the couch, Iwaizumi's own usual perch.

"It was eight hours, forty-two minutes, and seven seconds," said Oikawa, his eyes flitting to the small digital display on the cable box below the TV.  "Though I am estimating, so my count might be slightly off."  He shrugged, an oddly human gesture that made Iwaizumi almost forget that he was an alien for a moment.  "I have spent that time watching your television."

"Did you enjoy yourself?" asked Iwaizumi.

"It was very educational," said Oikawa, his eyes moving from Iwaizumi to the TV, as if noticing that it was still there for the first time since Iwaizumi had entered the room.  "I learned about many of the animals that live on your planet."

"Oh, yeah, you were on Animal Planet?"

"I am on Earth, I thought?"

"I meant—never mind."  Iwaizumi realized that it would probably be more trouble than it was worth to explain that Animal Planet was a TV channel and not an actual planet of animals.  Instead, he shifted his questions.  "What animals did you see?"

Oikawa then rattled off of a list of animals in a shockingly good impression of, Iwaizumi assumed, the hosts of the TV shows that were showing the animals off.  His memory and mimicry were both very well-honed, and Iwaizumi wondered in the back of his mind whether or not that was pride shining through the grin on his alien's face.

"...desert scorpion, walking stick bug, and now they're talking about this cicada bug," finished Oikawa, pointing to the television.

Iwaizumi's gaze followed Oikawa's outstretched finger to see what he wanted to show him.  The program, which must have been on types of bugs around the world, was talking about the population trends of cicadas.

"Cicadas?" asked Iwaizumi.  "I love those."

"What?  You do?" asked Oikawa.  "Because the person on the TV said that they were considered pests by much, or a nuisance at least.

"They aren't either," said Iwaizumi, feeling a bit of the giddy excitement in his chest that he had felt as a small child when he had gone out to hunt cicadas and take them home in little jars to show off how skilled he was at sneaking up on the insects while they were completely unaware.

"Oh, so you know a lot about cicadas?"

"I do, yeah, I guess," said Iwaizumi, rubbing the back of his neck.  "I used to chase them down with a butterfly net—that’s a pole with a circular net at the end, loose, so you can trap things in it—and put them in small jars to show people!  It was—It was a lot of fun.”

“I would like to do this with you, then, Iwa-chan!” said Oikawa, beaming.  Iwaizumi looked to the TV and saw some children—they looked like they were ten or twelve at the oldest—chasing the chirping and whirring bugs around a sparsely wooded public park.  It was picturesque, the type of thing that would be in a promotional video for a tourism bureau.  The voiceover said something about how this was a large part of the fun of cicadas, chasing them down and catching them.  Iwaizumi looked back to Oikawa, who was looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“I guess we _could_ ,” said Iwaizumi, “but not now.  It’s too cold out.  The cicadas don’t come back until the summer.  Maybe then.”

Oikawa grinned, but Iwaizumi realized almost instantly the weight of what he had just said.  Were they to wait until then, that would mean that Oikawa would be here until then.  He would still be in his house, still be on earth.  Iwaizumi realized that he had no long-term plan to deal with the alien that was now staying on his couch.  To add to that, he had just mentioned their possible activities for months in the future like it was nothing, like there was nothing temporary about the situation they were in.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Have you ever done that?  Catch the cicadas?” asked Oikawa, pointing to the children just before the TV program did a close-up on the bug itself, squirming in someone’s hands, whirring with the vibrations of its tymbals. 

“I did, yeah,” said Iwaizumi.  “I caught them when I was younger, when I was a little kid.  A lot of little kids do.  Especially when there are the periodic cicadas come out—they did when I was seven, I think—and then there’s so many around, it’s hard not to catch some.”

“What do the juvenile humans do with the cicadas once they catch them?” asked Oikawa.  “Do they eat them?”

“Only the dumb ones,” said Iwaizumi.  Oikawa raised an eyebrow, and Iwaizumi kept talking, realizing that Oikawa didn’t really understand that he was joking.  “Most of them would keep them in jars.  Poke a few holes in the top, throw in a few leaves and a branch in with them.  Then they’d bring them home.  Scare their mothers with them, that sort of thing.”

“You say this like you were not among these children.”

“I mean, I guess I was and I guess I wasn’t.”  Iwaizumi clasped and unclasped his hands.  “I would catch them, and I would even have the jar ready to keep them but I wouldn’t hold onto them.  I wasn’t about to keep them cooped up like that until they died.  That’s a terrible way to die, all cooped up like that, and I didn’t want to do that to the cicadas, especially on those periodic years.  It was so rare to have them, and a shame to kill something so seldom found.”

“So you let them go?”

“Yeah.  I caught them, but I let them go.  That way they would just be able to live their lives.  I didn’t need to have a dead bug the day after because it starved or suffocated in the jar.  I didn’t want to kill them.”

Oikawa’s eyes were very wide at this.  Iwaizumi took a half-step back.

“What?” asked Iwaizumi, Oikawa’s large and adoring eyes not leaving him as he asked.

“Iwa-chan, that’s so cute~~!”

“I was a little kid,” said Iwaizumi, blushing despite himself. 

“That makes it cuter!” said Oikawa.  “I know I do not understand Earth customs, but in over two million cultures, if not more, it is commonplace to think that the young offspring of local fauna are cute, and that the things they do are also cute.  Therefore, I understand that this description of you as a child was incredibly cute.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes went to the TV, which was showing the different parts of the cicada’s face.  He took the remote control and clicked the thing off before turning back to Oikawa.  He sighed.  “I think that’s enough or now.  I’m glad you learned today.”

“The right whale has the largest testicle of any living mammal,” said Oikawa, beaming.  He added, after a brief pause: “One thousand, one hundred fifty-seven pounds per testicle.  I suppose it’s the largest testicle of any living animal _on Earth_.”

Iwaizumi did not probe deeper into that comment, simply turning and moving to the kitchen to make some dinner.  It was strange how being at home was making him more tired than his time at work, when it was supposed to be vice-versa.

And yet he’d just thought of Oikawa staying with him indefinitely, and that did not seem wrong or different at all.  He wasn’t _used_ to him yet, was he?  He hoped not.  If he was calm when it came to a shapeshifting alien, what sort of benchmark would that be for any future weirdness?  Not a very good one, apparently.

He was halfway through preparing some dinner when he heard Oikawa speak.  It was such a shock that he jumped nearly a foot in the air.  This was not because of what Oikawa said, but the proximity of Oikawa to him when he said it.  Just behind his back with a silent approach and no warning was not the best time or place to ask when he could go out and see what else on Earth there was to see.

Iwaizumi slowly placed the knife down on the counter, glad that he hadn’t stabbed it into Oikawa on reflex.  He took a deep breath to center himself before responding to the alien, who was standing just a bit too close to him for him to be comfortable.

“You want to… what?”

“I want to go out.”  Oikawa looked to him with his large brown eyes.  “I understand why you have kept me in your house, because I am a foreigner to this world and would attract undue attention.”  His expression grew more serious.  “However, I want to learn about this world, and I will not do that by just watching television.”

He kept that expectant gaze for a while, keeping eye contact with Iwaizumi, unblinking for longer than he should have, were he human.  Iwaizumi tried to look away, but he couldn’t really pull his eyes away from the creature looking up at him.  At the back of his mind, he wondered if Oikawa might have some hypnotism abilities with his eyes, something alien that he could barely comprehend.  Then, he realized that was ridiculous, and that he was just trying to _charm_ his way through this.

He wasn’t sure what Animal Planet show he’d learned that one on.

In any case, he sighed, and nodded, backing to the side slightly so that he could find _some_ space between him and his new housemate.  “I tell you what, Oikawa, I’ll…”  He slid out just a bit more and wiped his hands on a towel hanging off of the stove.  He pushed the bowl of vegetables he had been working on off to the side of the counter and stepped around Oikawa so that he wasn’t pinned back while they were speaking.  “I’ll bring you to the shop soon, and show you around a little bit.”

“That would be agreeable,” said Oikawa, stepping forward and poking at the bowl of vegetables.  “Why do you mutilate these plants?”

“ _Mainly just practice_ ,” sighed Iwaizumi, quiet enough so that just he could hear it, and he turned back to the counter to grab the beef he was going to add to the stir fry.

It was halfway through the second piece of beef that Iwaizumi realized the implications of what he’d promised, of the consequences of bringing Oikawa out in the world, into his _place of work_ , and he almost lost the tip of his left thumb.

Oikawa was simply humming some sort of discordant song that didn’t seem to follow any particular pattern, gazing out the window over the sink at the darkened winter world outside, without a care in this world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hbd oikawa!!!
> 
> ((more of this au to come!!! i can't wait!!!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi celebrates the first-ever "bring your alien to work day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been since July and I'm sorry for taking so long... My bad.
> 
> I was a part of a big bang, but then that sort of fell apart, but I did beta a great IwaOi fic, "dim a little, shine a lot," by SatyrSyd37. It's about Oikawa and his work with SETI trying to find aliens, and his former best friend who he meets up with again after five years and who's now a tattoo artist, Iwaizumi. It's such a good fic. Please check it out here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12784599/chapters/29172801
> 
> And thanks @hobbit_hedgehog for the beta!!! Good comments!!! yes

It didn’t take long for Iwaizumi to regret bringing Oikawa with him to the shop.  He immediately ate one of the first flowers he saw, and he had not understood when Iwaizumi had turned to explain that not every plant was necessarily deemed edible, by human standards.  Oikawa proceeded to spit up the carnation into the palm of his hands.  Iwaizumi pointed him toward the trash.  Oikawa had exclaimed something about what a waste that would be, and promptly swallowed the flower again, slurping it out of his own hand.

What really cemented Iwaizumi’s embarrassment was turning around to see Hanamaki sniggering from behind the counter.  Iwaizumi raised a threatening pointer finger toward his friend and coworker, but when Oikawa stood next to him, beaming a brilliantly white smile, the unspoken threat carried no real weight.

“Introduce me to your friend, Hajime,” said Hanamaki, that Cheshire grin not leaving his face.

Iwaizumi stiffened before speaking.  “This is Tooru Oikawa, and—”

“Hello, friend of Iwa-chan!”  Oikawa bounded forward with an inhuman vigor.  “I am overjoyed at acquainting myself with you!”  He gripped Hanamaki’s hands in his own over the table and held them there, still beaming.

“It’s a pleasure,” said Hanamaki to Oikawa.  He leaned to the side, looking around Oikawa to Iwaizumi.  “He’s a lively one.”

Iwaizumi just sighed in response as he crossed behind the counter, taking his apron from the hook on the wall as he went.  Oikawa was still holding onto Hanamaki’s hands.

“Your body temperature seems to be normal, although your stature is above average,” said Oikawa, sizing Hanamaki up.  “You could use some more physical activity, however—Iwaizumi seems to have a better physical form, although you have more genetic potential…”

Iwaizumi reached across the counter and pulled Oikawa’s hands off of Hanamaki’s.  “Oikawa?  Not everyone needs a physical assessment.”

Oikawa eyed Hanamaki up and down, who was still trying to figure out whether he should be offended or not by Oikawa’s comments on his physical structure.  “All I was saying was—”

“It’s okay,” said Hanamaki.  He grinned devilishly at Iwaizumi.  “After all, your friend here is spreading rumors, you know?”

“I do not,” said Oikawa as Iwaizumi let his hands fall from his grasp.

“He told _me_ ,” said Hanamaki, leaning forward over the counter, “that _you’re_ an alien.  A spaceman.  How cruel is that?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at this schoolyard display, and Oikawa just blinked a few times in response.  Hanamaki snickered until he realized that Iwaizumi wasn’t embarrassed and he wasn’t getting a rise out of Oikawa.  “What?”

“Your information is correct.  _Oe ketuwong_.”  Oikawa had a straight face even as his mouth formed the inhuman words.

Hanamaki looked to Iwaizumi in shock and back to Oikawa.  He stepped toward Iwaizumi and spoke to him in a hushed voice.  “Are you sure this guy shouldn’t be… seeing someone?  For delusions?  Or should we really…?”

“Oikawa, can you do that thing you were doing the other day that I told you not to do in public,” said Iwaizumi, bending around Hanamaki to speak to the alien on the other side of the counter.

“But we are in public,” said Oikawa, gesturing to the otherwise empty flower shop around him.  “And also, which thing that you told to not do?”

“It’s okay,” said Iwaizumi.  “And, the tongue thing.”

Oikawa nodded, and he faced Hanamaki, who gave a nervous look to Iwaizumi.  Iwaizumi nodded to Oikawa, directing Hanamaki’s attention that way.  Hanamaki looked at the alien, who allowed his tongue to drop from his tongue, descending a full three feet at least before lifting up and meekly waving at Hanamaki.

“What the _shit_?”

There was slightly less teasing after that, and Iwaizumi had to admit to himself that he did love the expression on Hanamaki’s face when Oikawa’s tongue got a little past two feet and kept going.  Iwaizumi got to work after instructing Oikawa not to touch or eat anything, but the whole time, Hanamaki kept looking askance at Oikawa.

* * *

“No,” Iwaizumi said flatly as Oikawa poked at the birdcage they kept near the window with a few parakeets.

“But, I—”

“ _No_ ,” said Iwaizumi, more firmly this time.  Oikawa skulked over to inspect a display of lilies.

“I didn’t realize that aliens pouted,” said Hanamaki absently.

“That’s what I thought, too,” said Iwaizumi, turning back to the arrangement he was working on.  Hanamaki kept his eyes on the alien, who in turn seemed to be in a staring contest with a flower.

Iwaizumi was just putting the final touches on his arrangement when the bells on the door jingled, and someone entered, shivering away the cold as they stepped inside.  She was a tall, dark-haired woman with glasses, and she was drop-dead gorgeous.  She shook herself and briefly looked around before approaching the counter.

“Hello,” she said, her voice quiet but powerful.  “I was just here to pick up an arrangement.  It should be under Shimizu.”

“Of course,” said Iwaizumi.  He turned to the cooler to retrieve the bouquet of bright oranges and yellows—all sunflowers and chrysanthemums and a few pink cosmoses, as well.  It seemed a bit more gregarious than would fit this woman’s style, but Iwaizumi reasoned that most people don’t usually buy flowers for themselves.  It was probably a gift.

He almost dropped the bright arrangement as he turned around, because Oikawa had switched interest from the lilies he had been observing to this beautiful customer, and he was currently holding both of her hands in his, as he had done with Hanamaki.

The main difference was, Hanamaki was a friend, who Iwaizumi was fine with freaking out.  This “Shimizu” was a complete stranger.

“…and you are a fascinating individual, with an interesting use of tools to make up for your genetic sight impurities.  Everything else seems to be perfect, though do you want to see something not even a human as well-formed as you can do?  Iwa-chan told me not to, but then let me do it earlier, so…”

He opened his mouth and began to stick out his tongue when Iwaizumi leapt forward and practically _slammed_ the bouquet on the counter, shaking loose a few petals but catching both of their attentions.  “Excuse him,” said Iwaizumi, “he’s…”

Oikawa beamed, releasing Shimizu’s hands—which she immediately pulled back from him—and Iwaizumi found himself completely unable to come up with a convincing enough lie to cover up his alien’s odd behavior.  He was at a loss.

“He’s trying out a new character bit for our improve theatre troupe,” said Hanamaki from behind Iwaizumi.  Iwaizumi turned back to him in shock.  “Improv is only twenty percent on the spot, you know.  Most of it is well-rehearsed.”

Iwaizumi turned back to the customer with a weak smile that he was sure seemed guilty.  The smile was not returned.  The woman roughly handed him some bills, and Iwaizumi had barely handed her the change before she bustled back out into the cold.

“Your alien beefed it with the hot girl,” said Hanamaki.  “And I can’t believe I saved you like that.”

Iwaizumi didn’t respond to Hanamaki, choosing instead to focus his anger on its real target.

“Oikawa, you can’t…”  He trailed off, both keenly aware that Hanamaki was watching everything he was doing with a smug look on his face and that as soon as the awkward had shifted to someone else, Hanamaki seemed completely fine with the idea of an actual space alien.  “You need to be a little more... well, act natural.”

Oikawa’s face shriveled up in annoyance.  “I am not unintelligent,” he said, “so there is no reason to speak to me as if I am.  But also know that, being from separate planets, we both have a different metric for ‘normal.’”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” said Iwaizumi.  Oikawa didn’t know what normal _was_ , which meant that everything had to be completely explained.  “Don’t grab both hands.  Just one.  Shake, then release.  And… don’t tell people you’re an alien.”

“Why?” asked Oikawa.

“They’ll think you’re crazy,” said Iwaizumi.

“I do,” said Hanamaki from a little further off.

“Thanks,” said Iwaizumi, not turning to him, “you’re not helpful at all.”  He focused back on Oikawa.  Sometimes, when he wasn’t saying anything weird or showing off the shapeshifting abilities of his prehensile tongue, Iwaizumi could almost just see him as another guy.  He seemed to fit in with the eclectic but dreamy backdrop of the flower shop.

“You know what?” said Iwaizumi.  “I would probably be best if you don’t talk to anybody else unless they say hello to you.”  He paused.  “And when they do, just a greeting.”

Oikawa nodded.  “But I will have further opportunities to meet other humans, I presume?”

“Of course,” said Iwaizumi, feeling a slight throb in his forehead, the onset of a headache.  “And you always have Hanamaki over here.  I’m not sure if we’ll count him as people.”

“Hey!”

“But think about it this way, Oikawa—you should be an observer, not a participant, in the world.”  He realized that this sounded pretty harsh, so he held up his hands.  “That is, at least until you start to figure it out a little more.”

Oikawa nodded, pleased enough with this, at least for now.  Now, both Iwaizumi and Hanamaki kept an eye on him, but despite their worry, Oikawa didn’t scare away any other customers, didn’t do anything to increase the intensity to the low throbbing behind Iwaizumi’s eyes, and only ate three other flowers—that they could tell were missing at the end of the day.

* * *

“Here,” said Iwaizumi, handing Oikawa the bowl of salad at his kitchen table.  “ _These_ are plants you can eat, since you’ve been so keen on it.”

Oikawa eyed the bowl and reached for it with both hands.  Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows, and Oikawa froze.

“Use the utensils.”

Oikawa pouted, but he pulled his hands back from almost-grabbing the lettuce and used the large fork and spoon to move the food from the bowl to his plate.  There, he reached for it with a hand before stopping and picking up the fork Iwaizumi had put out for him.  He gave Iwaizumi the stink eye as he stuffed a large mouthful of salad into his mouth.  Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if he was dealing with an alien or a petulant toddler.

“What,” began Oikawa before he had finished eating the food in his mouth, “separates the food humans deem edible from the food humans designate as ‘flowers’?”

“Taste is a big part of it,” said Iwaizumi.  “And we do eat some flowers.  Like artichokes.”

“What is the purpose of your flowers, then, if humans do not eat them?”

Iwaizumi put down his fork and looked across the table at the alien.  He wasn’t sure if Oikawa was messing with him or not.  He wasn’t sure if he had the capacity of knowledge about earth to actually mess with him.  He definitely had the capacity for _sass_ …

Oikawa just blinked and scarfed down another mouthful of greens while waiting for Iwaizumi’s response.

“I suppose…” said Iwaizumi, “I suppose that it’s not for any purpose at all other than aesthetics.”  He paused, unsure if that was a word Oikawa would understand, though whatever sort of translation went on inside of the alien’s head.  “Basically, humans like to have flowers around because they’re pretty.”

“Oh!” said Oikawa, understanding flashing across his eyes.  “Just like your musculature!  You keep up with your physique, but you do not use it for anything!”  He beamed, apparently pleased with himself for understanding the concept.

Iwaizumi flushed.  He opened his mouth to reply, and though all that could go through his head was that Oikawa had taken a look at his body analytically and declared it pretty.  He pushed his mixed embarrassment and flattery to the back of his mind.

“Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa, reaching out a hand and placing it next to Iwaizumi’s on the table, but not quite touching, “I want you to know that I am very appreciative that you brought me with you today.”  He looked down at the salad, began to take another stab of lettuce and vegetables, but then seemed to remember that he was in the middle of speaking, and paused.  “I want to learn as much as I can about Earth—it’s the reason I came here.  And I am so glad that you are willing to help me with my mission.”

Iwaizumi cocked his head to the side ever-so-slightly, a little confused.  He knew that Oikawa didn’t exactly see things the same way a human would see the, but he really thought he hadn’t done too much for the alien.  Though, Oikawa was grateful for what help he’d provided.  Iwaizumi lifted his hand and patted the top of Oikawa’s briefly and smiled.  “I was happy to help,” he said.  His grin twisted upward.  “Plus, you really freaked Hanamaki out for a minute.  I know you didn’t mean to, but it was very satisfying.”

“He is your friend?”  Oikawa seemed genuinely confused.  “Why would you wish him ire?”

“Oh,” said Iwaizumi, waving the question away.  “Of course Hanamaki’s my friend.  But he’s sort of annoying sometimes, and he thinks he’s better than you.”  He paused.  “Well, not just you.  Sort of, everyone.  But it’s nice every once and a while to joke around with him.  Shake him up.”

Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi, his mouth just slightly open, his eyes slightly unfocused as he calculated what Iwaizumi had just told him.  “I see,” he said, using his fork to stab most of what was left on his plate.  “There is a certain fondness for teasing.”  He put the food in his mouth and started to chew.  “I find that amusing.”

Iwaizumi’s grin faltered just a touch.  “I think I’d wait to adopt that particular trait until you better understand the nuances of the Earth culture.”

Oikawa swallowed and looked to Iwaizumi, his grin downright devilish.  “Oh, Iwa-chan…” he said, sighing wistfully.  “I think you and I both know that I will be employing this policy of teasing as quickly and as fully as possible.”

“I cannot wait,” said Iwaizumi, wondering if it was a coincidence that his headache decided to make a comeback at the same time Oikawa had made a comment about teasing.  He took a sip of water.  The one part of Hanamaki he didn’t want to rub off of Oikawa seemed to have made the biggest impression.  There could have been worse outcomes, but Iwaizumi found that he had created himself a new type of gentle suffering.

“I agree with you,” said Oikawa, reaching for the large bowl of salad in the middle of the table and helping himself to some more.  “This arrangement is much tastier than the arrangement you were creating at the flower shop.”

“Again, those weren’t meant to be eaten.”

“But they _can_ be,” said Oikawa.  “And I am still not convinced that humans’ obsession with the look of things is not wasteful.”

“It’s worth—”  Iwaizumi broke off.  There wasn’t an easy way to explain exactly what it was worth, but he knew that there was a reason humans liked nice things.  There was a reason why they continued to work to create things that were beautiful, or cultivate them into things such as the flowers at the shop.  Whether or not they had actual purpose, they were full of worth just because o what they were.

While this was what he thought about, he instead shrugged and said “—at least a little to the people who spend their money on it.”  He narrowed his eyes slightly.  “And Oikawa?” he said, suddenly remembering what he had read in a horticultural periodical recently about pets and plants.  “Don’t eat any of the houseplants.  It’ll make you sick.”

* * *

As Iwaizumi laid in bed, his head swam with visions of Oikawa that day.  It was his first major outing, and he’d done well, for the most aprt.  He _had_ eaten a few flowers, but Iwaizumi had ruined a fair share of flowers when he had first started at the shop, and this was… well, it wasn’t similar at all, but there wasn’t really any harm in it.  And there weren’t many equitable experiences to what it was like on the first “bring your alien to work day.”

He had done well with Hanamaki—though Iwaizumi would have to keep a strict eye that no more of Hanamaki’s dry sarcasm rubbed off on Oikawa, who was already enough of a little shit without Hanamaki’s influence.

He found himself glad, though, that it had gone well.  Maybe it was because Oikawa had enjoyed it much more than staying all cooped up at Iwaizumi’s house, and maybe it was that he’d loved the look on Hanamaki’s face when he found out Oikawa’s true identity as an alien.  And maybe—this maybe was a long shot—he was happy because after this successful outing, he knew that Oikwawa would be able to fit into the Earth world.  Or, at least, he wouldn’t stand out too much.  He had the base skills—the details, they’d still have t work on.

But if he could work with everyday Earth life, that meant that he would _stay_.  Despite himself, that was something Iwaizumi found novel.  He’d been living with Oikawa for a week, and despite the nuisance, despite the misunderstandings, despite the _mess_ , he found himself growing increasingly fond of his alien; it was refreshing to see things through a fresh set of eyes.  Maybe those eyes just needed to come from light-years away in order for Iwaizumi to find them.

He’d been nursing something of a headache all day, but as he settled into bed, he could only feel that dull afterache, the feeling of the pain on its way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Oikawa says "Oe ketuwong," that means "I'm an alien."
> 
> hobbit_hedgehog, upon betaing this fic: "Iwaizumi comes home one day and sees Oikawa with a leaf sticking out of his mouth. He goes to get it back and has to chase Oikawa around the house."
> 
> tru

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes:
> 
> The alien language Oikawa speaks before he figures out how humans speak is Na'vi, and rougly translates as follows:  
> "Tsalì’uri alu what, ral lu’upe?” - What does "what" mean?  
> “Tswa’fko, kewong.” - Forget it, alien.  
> “Peseng…?” - Where...?
> 
> Also, just so I don't have to worry about it and for the purposes of this AU: Oikawa is an alien and aliens don't have the same concepts of human gender because they aren't human and gender is a social construct. However, because Iwaizumi is the first human he comes into contact with, he adapts his body to be somewhat similar in structure while disguised as a human (in this case, cisgender male human) and uses he/him pronouns when speaking as a human. That being said, we'll get a heck of a lot more in-depth with alien biology later I think (because I'm way too interested in the little details where they don't matter) and basically his true gender is more of a fluid/not a gender.


End file.
